


something quiet and hurting

by the_unknown_storyteller



Series: words in pieces [1]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 21:07:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30145611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_unknown_storyteller/pseuds/the_unknown_storyteller
Summary: They came to this country to build themselves a new life, a new home, a new family. They came to this country with hopes and dreams that could reach the sky and questions that went to the bottom of the ocean.But the only questions, that they have left now, are: What happened? And how could they have been torn apart like this?
Relationships: Niki | Nihachu & Ranboo
Series: words in pieces [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2218767
Kudos: 4
Collections: DSMP Big Bang Bootcamp





	something quiet and hurting

The heat of the fireplace pierces his body, making him much too aware of the uncomfortable dampness of his clothes and the woolen blanket that stuck to his bare arms. White noise spreads through his hands, wandering up towards his face and settling there in warm patches. He’s always hated thunderstorms, especially ones that would loom over his head in heavy clouds all day. He never knows if and when it will begin, keeping him on edge and making him double and triple check the enchantments on his armour and the durability of his helmet. They’re never failed him before, but who knows if they wouldn’t this time around.

Ranboo shifts his weight on the wooden chair, keeping his eyes on the floor rather than on the person running back and forth through the room. The feeling of white noise turns into one of discomfort, as if he were to press the back of his hands against the needles of a cactus. Not enough to truly pierce his skin, but just enough to be noticeable and make him anticipate the pain soon to come. It makes him want to scratch at the back of his neck, but he is too scared to move. To do anything, really. 

He keeps his breathing quiet and his restless tail close to the perimeter around his chair, hunching over to appear smaller and less threatening. Tubbo once told him that his height could be quite intimidating, especially on his bad days when a deep frown would etched into his face instead of a pleasant smile. So he keeps his clawed fingers as loose fists and his sharp canines hidden. Not a word has been spoken or uttered since he’s arrived at her door, soaked to the bone with a cracked helmet stuffed into his bag. His stuttered explanation was cut off and discarded in the corner, as he was pulled into the warmth of the small home, which belongs to her and no one else. Built by her own hands and given form with her own tears. He is not part of that ‘home’, hasn’t been for a very long time now. 

Sometimes he indulges the what-ifs and maybes in the back of his mind. He lets himself dream of a world, where they supported each other with words of encouragement and acts of kindness, instead of tearing one another apart with hate and distrust of the other, standing on a country that has been ripped from under their already unsteady feet. 

The silence threatens to suffocate Ranboo, yet he dares not speak a word. The tension in the room is high and he does not want to be the one to light its fuse with a misplaced word or action. The patches on his face are starting to burn now. He hopes she doesn’t see it. Wishful thinking. The footsteps stop their pacing and grow faint, as they run through the room with purpose now. They return with a new blanket and some towels and a pile of warm and most importantly dry clothes. “Dry yourself off and change into this, please.” The words are soft, so soft that they the breath in his lungs stutter with longing and regret. What happened? Just what happened to tear them apart like this? They were siblings once. “Okay…”, comes the quiet reply and burnt hands take the offered promise of warmth and a home that could be his as well. If he wasn’t such a coward, he would take it.  
Feeling much calmer in the dry clothes and wrapped in a new blanket, Ranboo sits back down at the living room table. The scent of fresh bread wafts through the air with its source just around the corner, where the kitchen is located. Distantly, he can hear humming and the high tink-ting of metal hitting against glass. The familiarity of it all makes his heart ache and his eyes burn with unshed tears. 

The sounds in the kitchen calm down and soon after, Ranboo is presented with a platter of warm buttered bread rolls and a mug of honeyed milk. His hands shake with barely contained sobs, as he takes a bite. It tastes like home.

“Ranboo, I think we should talk. About this. About us.” She takes the seat across the person she once knew by heart, avoiding eye contact. They may have grown apart, but she still knows the things that make her brother uncomfortable. 

“I think so too. I’ve missed you, Niki.”

**Author's Note:**

> the mods of the DSMP Big Bang discord surprised us with this bootcamp challenge, where we get three prompts every week, and i am so excited for this bc i love writing prompts, and they usually inspire and motivate me a lot, which in turn makes me write more  
> btw most of these will be rather short, as i want to get through as many of the prompts as possible  
> i think i'll end these notes with the week and the prompt, just for me to remember and to keep track
> 
> Week #1, Prompt 1: Bread


End file.
